Hungry for More: Romantic Fantasies for Women - just published! With stories by Tiffany Reisz, Greta Christina, D.L. King and more. 21 fantasies, from "Kitchen Slut" to a cougar to Craigslist sex to BDSM to bukkake to watching two men get it on, and more!

See the rest of Sandy, the Milwaukee Cupcake Queen's photos from her NYC visit, and you too can be impressed with the number of bakeries she managed to hit up in only 36 hours! It was great to meet her and I'll have 2 interviews with her up this week, along with an interview with the co-owner of Baked, over at Cupcakes Take the Cake.

So...the official deadline for my 2 e-books is fast approaching. I didn't do a giant public call preferring to stick to blogs so that I could court some newer writers.

And, well, I know the pay is pitiful. Next to nothing. And trust me, I feel awful about that. I feel bad about the fact that in my regular collections I can only pay $50 per story. On some level, I feel like no self-respecting writer should be asked to write for so little. On the other hand, well, erotica is not the field to go into to become rich. That would be non-fiction. Or well, something other than writing. That's just the reality, and I am eager to see how these e-books do, and glad that authors will share in the profits, which only happens once in a blue moon with a regular erotica book. So I hope to encourage new and experienced writers, and can even give you until Friday, October 3rd, as an extension, because I want these books to be as good as they can be. Also, I'm not getting as big an advance as I normally would. So it's an adventure and experiment for me, too, as I know next to nothing about e-books. I'm hoping to learn. So if you've been on the fence, please know that I'm gearing up my poor little pseudonyms to do some extra writing if I don't fill those story holes by next weekend, but I'd really rather publish your work.

I'm editing 2 new e-book anthologies for Ravenous Romance, to be published in December 2008.

For both: 1,500-3,000 words, Times or Times New Roman, double space, indent 1/2 an inch at start of each paragraph. Unpublished work only. All characters must be over 18; no incest or bestiality. All sexual orientations/genders welcome. Send as Word Document; if you cannot send as Word Document, send as RTF or in the body of an email.

LUST CHRONICLES: Erotic memoir, aka true sex stories. It has to be true and about you and involve sex. Can be funny, adventurous, sexy, dark, etc. Does not have to be "erotic" per se. Looking for a wide range of scenarios, everything from group sex to BDSM to best times, craziest times, first times, etc.

SEX AND MUSIC: Erotica about sex and music, could be band/groupie, music teacher, masturbating to a hot song, making a music video, musical performance, etc. Again, looking for a wide range of scenarios.

Send BIO and MAILING ADDRESS (either in the Word Doc or in body of your email) and WORD DOCUMENT with your submission to: rachelravenous@gmail.com (if you previously sent a story to another address, I have it) with "Lust Chronicles" or "Sex and Music" in subject line

DEADLINE: September 30, 2008 (but I will be accepting stories on a rolling basis, so the sooner you get them in, the better)

PAYMENT (Updated): Authors will receive $1/page PLUS portion of the E-book and MP3 royalties. We are purchasing electronic rights for 3 years and audio rights.

I love many of the social networking platforms I use because I get such a huge amount of support from them. Blogging, of late, is not really one of those, but I still love it and probably always will, though think I'm infinitely better at cupcake blogging than the personal kind. And I get that to some extent, yes, I am part of that world, I do write about my personal life, but I also lately am craving a lot more solitude and a break from New York. It may not be this big, bad, beautiful city's fault, I may be the source of the problem(s), but I feel like it's worth mixing things up a little to see what I could be, who I could be, in some other place.

--Do you feel you're public figure and you need to let everyone what's going on with you, or do you feel you have over shared at times?I don't think of myself as a public figure so much as I know I have lots of friends and acquaintances as well as readers who I don't know who appreciate knowing what I'm up to. That being said, though, I think I've always written, online and off, as a mechanism first and foremost for me to sort out my thoughts. Sharing them is almost secondary.

Once you get used to sharing in a certain way, whether it's via blog or Twitter, and you do add a level of openness, it's hard to back down from that without people thinking something is wrong. That can start a vicious cycle where you spend inordinate amounts of time posting when you could be doing other more productive things, so I think the key is finding a balance, one I'm pretty sure I haven't yet struck.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

A bunch of photos were forwarded to me via Barbara L. Franklin from an Alaska Women Reject Palin rally last weekend. I need to track down the name of the woman who passed these on, but her note was included at the end:

[The] Alaska Women Reject Palin rally was to be held outside on the lawn in front of the Loussac Library in midtown Anchorage. Home made signs were encouraged, and the idea was to make a statement that Sarah Palin does not speak for all Alaska women, or men. I had no idea what to expect.

The rally was organized by a small group of women, talking over coffee. It made me wonder what other things have started with small groups of women talking over coffee. It's probably an impressive list. These women hatched the plan, printed up flyers, posted them around town, and sent notices to local media outlets. One of those media outlets was KBYR radio, home of Eddie Burke, a long-time uber-conservative Anchorage talk show host. Turns out that Eddie Burke not only announced the rally, but called the people who planned to attend the rally "a bunch of socialist baby-killing maggots," and read the home phone numbers of the organizers aloud over the air, urging listeners to call and tell them what they thought. The women, of course, received some nasty, harassing and threatening messages.

I felt a bit apprehensive. I'd been disappointed before by the turnout at other rallies. Basically, in Anchorage, if you can get 25 people to show up at an event, it's a success. So, I thought to myself, if we can actually get 100 people there that aren't sent by Eddie Burke, we'll be doing good. A real statement will have been made. I confess, I still had a mental image of 15 demonstrators surrounded by hundreds of menacing "socialist baby-killing maggot" haters.

It's a good thing I wasn't tailgating when I saw the crowd in front of the library or I would have ended up in somebody's trunk. When I got there, about 20 minutes early, the line of sign wavers stretched the full length of the library grounds, along the edge of the road, 6 or 7 people deep! I could hardly find a place to park. I nabbed one of the last spots in the library lot, and as I got out of the car and started walking, people seemed to join in from every direction, carrying signs.

Never, have I seen anything like it in my 17 and a half years living in Anchorage. The organizers had someone walk the rally with a counter, and they clicked off well over 1400 people (not including the 90 counter-demonstrators). This was the biggest political rally ever, in the history of the state. I was absolutely stunned. The second most amazing thing is how many people honked and gave the thumbs up as they drove by. And even those that didn't honk looked wide-eyed and awe-struck at the huge crowd that was growing by the minute. This just doesn't happen here.

Then, the infamous Eddie Burke showed up. He tried to talk to the media, and was instantly surrounded by a group of 20 people who started shouting O-BA-MA so loud he couldn't be heard. Then passing cars started honking in a rhythmic pattern of 3, like the Obama chant, while the crowd cheered, hooted and waved their signs high.

So, if you've been doing the math yes, The Alaska Women Reject Palin rally was significantly bigger than Palin's rally that got all the national media coverage! So take heart, sit back, and enjoy the photo gallery. Feel free to spread the pictures around to anyone who needs to know that Sarah Palin most definitely does not speak for all Alaskans. The citizens of Alaska, who know her best, have things to say.

Without getting into great detail, I fucked up something today (obviously not the first time), and feel really badly about it. But I also realize that that mistake is over and all I can do is move forward. I really like this idea from Karen Stabiner of "atonement flipped on its ear." Mainly because I think for many of us, it's the natural impulse to dwell pretty much forever on the mistakes. I do, even when there's no possible way I can undo them.

The mistakes I make in my personal life I tend to re-make ad nauseam, which pretty much defeats the point of atoning for them, to G-d or to myself. So that's all, just something I thought was worthwhile. I'm reading Charlotte Kasl's If The Buddha Got Stuck, among the five books I'm carting around, and not living in the past, remaining present, and taking action are all prominent points. See her site and her 16-step plan for more info.

Apologies are our day-to-day atonements, and lately it seems to me that they're tossed off reflexively, sometimes in the midst of the bad act itself; people seem to think they can leaven misbehavior with a shrug and a "sorry." You can tell they don't mean it; you can tell they're going to do exactly the same thing to someone else tomorrow, and shrug and apologize, and then do it again. Undoubtedly not what organized religion has in mind, which may be the reason my dad took refuge in temple even when there wasn't a formal service. The chanting and the singing and the silent reading changed the pace of his day and maybe, just maybe, brought him to moments of personal reflection. He had time not just to apologize but to think about how he might be a worthier guy down the line.

If his strategy didn't work for me, in the long run [thanks primarily to the soul-scorching tenure of an awfully self-righteous rabbi when I was a teen], I was still my father's daughter, still in need of some kind of spiritual frame. When our daughter was born, the need became an imperative, and so I distilled for Sarah the parts of my childhood that felt like faith. Our family became holiday central for dozens of people on Hannukah and Passover, the happy holidays, the ones where we eat and drink and give presents and celebrate that our ancestors had escaped yet again and we are all together. The High Holidays? Always a plate of apples and honey to welcome the new year, even though my husband and daughter love the former and aggressively dislike the latter. And always a conversation about what we might do better in the coming year, which is atonement flipped on its ear. I like having an active assignment. I like not just asking to be forgiven, but promising to learn from the trespasses of the past. I may not look for lessons alongside hundreds of other people dressed in good wool suits, like my dad did, but I look. We have that in common.

See also: "Atonement" at Joho the Blog, about Atonement and the Internet

Check out a long interview with me at BlueBlood from when I was in LA. It takes place in a bakery, and we talk about erotica, cupcakes, and other yummy topics. We had just had a cupcake meetup and we set up shop in there for, oh, a good long while chatting away, and even ran into Clint Catalyst.

Many thanks to Forrest Black and Amelia G for being such good company, and for the fun opportunity to chat about sex, erotica, and, of course, cupcakes.

I’ve actually been wanting to read it for a while, and maybe because I blogged about it, or just the magic of being a former sex columnist, it came to my p.o. box today. I will, indeed, withhold judgment until I read it, also keeping in mind that I’m not the target audience. I don’t want to get married (not that I would totally rule it out, I never say never) and am way more interested in buidling a stable home for my future children than anything else. In my ideal world, I’ll be in a happy relationship when I do so, but the truth is, the most likely scenario is me going the Rachel Sarah single mom route. But I don’t know. I do want to see what this author has to say, but think it’s interesting that still, the majority of dating and marriage books are geared towards women, in a very specific way, with the assumption that we want to get married, sooner rather than later. That we are the ones pushing for it, rather than the reverse, which I don’t always think is true.

Second, the title is funny…meant to hark back to a time when your your grandmother- who fears the computer and thinks that you should wear a girdle- was young. When she was dating there were Jim Crow laws and a federal ban on birth control for God’s sake! The fact that some people take the title of the book so seriously and allow it to offend means that on some level they believe it is true. I chose this particular title for its old school ridiculousness and in fact, once you read the book you will see that I totally reinvent the expression “Why buy the cow…”and explain how it (in its modern interpretation) applies to life today. Anyway, why shouldn’t we have a bit of fun? A woman struggling to get a man to commit is in a very serious and heart-breaking situation that I understand and commiserate with. In this situation, it can’t hurt to laugh at the world. Also, although “feminism” can mean many different things, I actually think of the book as a feminist text that that someone like Betty Friedan would select for a nice, leisurely read on the can. I have a hyphenated name for God’s sake. How annoying is that? How dare you say I’m not a feminist!

Some of you have commented that any book that advocates tactics and games is horrible and you shouldn’t have to trick a man. What do you call putting on make-up, ladies? Life is all about tactics. When you put on lipstick in the morning you are in reality misrepresenting yourself. You are misleading the world into thinking that you are more attractive and younger than you really are- to get respect, to get laid, whatever. We use tactics all the time to get what we want, and you are getting hung up on semantics. Also, I’m not suggesting that you trick a guy into anything. If you read the book you would see that it is all about getting a guy who would propose any way to just move a bit faster. The book isn’t about changing anyone’s mind; it is about getting your life moving on your own timetable. This is why reading a book prior to criticizing it is so useful.

We need more erotic poets at In The Flesh. Watch Monica Day to hear why. If you are one and want to read November 20th, write me at rachelkb at gmail.com with writing samples and "In The Flesh" in the subject line.

Monica Day reading in August at In The Flesh. Catch her, and me, and you too if you choose (it's an open mic) on Wednesday, October 1st at Bowery Poetry Club:

The Sensual Life presents…Living The Sensual Life:An Evening of Erotic Open Mic

Join us for an evening of seduction and truth-telling…art and pleasure… to a place where raw desire collides with expression, and explodes.Bring your poems, stories, songs, art – however the spirit of Eros moves you to create, we want you to share and explore with us. Sure to send tingles down your spine – among other places. Place: The Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery St.Time: 8pm (sharp) to 9:30pmFall Dates: 9/3, 10/1 & 11/12Admission: $10 (bring a friend for free)*Recommended: writers and artists call ahead to ensure

I started writing my story "Crossed" while in the lobby of the hotel for Dark Odyssey earlier this year. I found the atmosphere ripe for writing, and below is the beginning of what I came up with. Something I talk about in my Erotica 101 workshops (hoping to be teaching more soon!) is using your surroundings as writing fodder, whether that means a desk, a bed, a kitchen, a moving vehicle. Obviously, a sex conference is a place that's ripe for this kind of exercise. I didn't do much there, save for spanking a few people (that was interesting in and of itself though) but I found the people around me, the atmosphere, and the furniture all of interest.

I’m strung up on a St. Andrew’s cross, blindfolded, my breasts pressing through the space of the X as I face the wall, my back and ass exposed to any and all who want to look. And though my eyes may be covered, there are plenty who want to look. I can hear them chattering behind me while my husband, Chuck, readies his implements. I’m nervous, but the kind of nervous that makes my pussy tighten, my nipples harden. I like being nervous, I like trying new things. I like being pushed to my limits.

There’s a leather ball gag shoved in my mouth. I happen to know it’s purple, but only because Chuck told me after he’d blindfolded me. He bought it especially for me--large. I know because he used to use a smaller one on his ex, but he told me I not only have a bigger mouth, but I’m a bigger brat, and I needed more of a challenge. I’m such a competitive, horny slut that hearing this only made me open wide as could be. We both have mixed feelings about gagsæat the right time, there is nothing hotter than hearing a man or woman scream in ecstasy as she gets beaten in all the right ways. Those piercing cries can fill a room and become the perfect soundtrack to sadism. But there is also a charm in watching someone struggle, in being aware that those screams exist but for the moment are locked away, known only to the one holding them in. It’s like watching a silent movie, and the noise has to transform into some other outlet of pain, be it a wrenched face or muscle spasms or twisting and writhing, all of which can send any true sadist into orbit.

I should know, because despite my current enjoyable predicament, I am oneæa sadist, I mean. See, the two of us are switches, meaning that we go both ways kinkwise. We can get off on being held down, controlled, dominated, as well as being the one inflicting the best kind of pain in the world. I have been known to grin as widely as a lottery winner when I’ve got him over my knee and am turning his wide ass a beautiful shade of rose. But I can’t deny that being strung up, immobilized, cuffed into place is also one of the most highly charged fantasies I have.We like to spice things up to make sure our lives never get stagnant. So for the annual BDSM conference we attend in our nation’s capital, far from our small Iowa town, we decided to bet on who would be the top and who would be the bottom for this momentous occasion, and who could get the other off the fastest. Having been high school sweethearts and marrying at age 20 (we’re now 42), we know a lot about how to make each other come. But apparently he knew just that much more than me, clocking in at three minutes, six seconds, while it took me three minutes, twenty-two seconds to make Chuck come in my mouth. Not that I’m complaining—first because I love blowing him and would gladly linger on his cock for an hour; and second because now here I am, with a whole audience watching my still trim ass and strong back as I await what will happen next.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Planned Parenthood is suddenly a lot richer because of Sarah Palin.And the Republican vice presidential nominee will soon be receiving tens of thousands of thank-you notes.

A three-week-old Internet campaign is asking abortion-rights activists to send donations to Planned Parenthood in honor of the Alaska governor. The origin of the campaign is unknown and Planned Parenthood officials insist it is not their doing.

Palin is a staunch abortion- rights opponent. The campaign is meant to translate anger at her position into money for an agency that provides sex education, women's health care and abortion services.

One e-mail making the rounds on the Internet says: "Instead of (actually, in addition to) all of us all sending more e-mails about how absolutely horrible she is, let's all make a donation to Planned Parenthood in Sarah Palin's name."

Katie Groke Ellis, field manager for the Planned Parenthood of the Rockies Action Fund, predicts that the five-state chapter of the group alone could draw $100,000 in donations.

"We are so excited to see that people are writing checks to us instead of just complaining about it," Ellis said Tuesday.

Did I tell you I'm posing for an NYC sex blogger calendar? Well, I am. On Sunday. Not sure what I will be wearing but hopefully it'll be lacy and sexy and pretty. Maybe there will be fishnets. For sure I am going all out and taking advantage of the much-needed hair and makeup people. Aside from our recent cupcake/Vote-o-booth shoot with Hilary McHone and some headshots Stacie Joy took of me, I haven't done proper photos in a long time. I even have a photographer friend who owes me a session but I keep putting it off. Too busy, feel too fat, too off my game. But I'm gonna vamp it up on Sunday to make our calendar the best it can be.

You can't pose with us but, you can be in our calendar. Well, your blog can. Go to the site to find out how you can sponsor your very own day on the calendar. Like a holiday. And it's being shot by my fabulous friend Stacie Joy.

We’d like to offer everyone, readers and fellow bloggers, the opportunity to join in the fun and excitement, as well as promote your own blog if you have one. That means for $30 you can buy a day in our calendar and personalize it. If you’re a blogger you can have your blog url on your day, or if you’re a reader, any personal message - you can wish us luck or send a greeting to your favorite blogger or celebrate your birthday or anniversary - up to 80 characters will be printed on your day. That $30 includes one pre-ordered calendar (shipping is extra) with all funds in excess of our expenses going directly to Sex Work Awareness. You can purchase as many additional days as you like depending upon availability for $10 each. Since this is a 2009 calendar, we are on an extremely tight schedule and can only sell days through October 1st, 2008. We hope you will consider this a fun and creative way to promote your blog or just as a way to share in the pleasure and excitement this project has been bringing us in our effort to make our community and world a better, more sex-positive place to live.

These are from a shoot in...I'm not even sure, but a while ago, by Celeste Smith. The bottom one is one of my favorites.

Monday, September 22, 2008

I have added a few banner ads at left - one for Amazon, one for Endless.com via Amazon, and one for sex toy site EdenFantasys. Just wanted to give you a heads up about that. They also sell some of my books.

They sell lots of stuff, but one that totally won me over was this teddy bear paddle - how cute is it?

Lately I’ve just been feeling pretty unmotivated. Exhausted. I have trouble faxing or mailing back contracts (sorry to all who had to wait!) and just doing the most basic of tasks. I sleep in rather than get up early. I take the easiest, laziest route, which, truth be told, is nothing new. I always have, but the last month or so it's been more pronounced.

I am finishing up some anthologies that were due months ago, and I feel lucky I can even muster the energy to finish them (though when I can tell you about them, I think you'll see that they are really HOT and one is so fun, I hope to get to do some unusual promotions with it). I’d rather be brainstorming new ideas, but I can’t until I get them done. The thing is, I never can rely on myself because about half the time, I just quit and walk away, always have. That’s kindof my natural m.o., and is why I mentally dismiss anyone stupid enough to say, “You do so much.” I know they will never understand and don’t even bother protesting.

It’s not that I do nothing, I do. But this year especially I’ve seen that there are consequences. Deals dropped, anthologies I don’t get into. It’s ironic that I forfeited my chance to be in two big-paying anthologies but scramble to write for practically nothing. I’m not sure why I have that self-sabotaging instinct, I just know it’s always easier for me to pick up someone else’s book, get lost in their world. I want to write books, yes, but I don’t know if I have it in me, at least, not now, not with a full-time job and part-time blog and other things I want to do with my life.

I try to force myself to focus on the details, to take delight in the accomplishing of small tasks, even if that just involves sending back a contract. I have much bigger tasks I need to accomplish, but I’ve learned that I have to trick myself into them sometimes, break them down into their tiniest parts or they will never get done. There’s a lot that never got done, and you don’t get a second chance. I’m actually shocked most of the time that anyone still wants to buy anything I write. Most of the time of late I have no idea if it’s worth it, but I also know I have no other skill, no education beyond a pretty worthless college degree. And even if writing doesn’t always, or even all that often, anymore, make me happy, I need it. It helps me, and I hope to find ways to make the writing that helps me converge with the writing that makes me money. Because, well, whatever I’m doing isn’t really working. It’s too much time spent for not enough money, that much is crystal clear. I feel my 33rd birthday looming, and am not all that excited because I feel like this was the year I failed and it’s hard to not see more than that. I need to make the next one one where I succeed, not just financially, but at doing things I can be proud of. I got myself into this mess by agreeing to things I think I was never proud of, and increasingly, that’s how I feel, and it’s uncomfortable.

I was at a party on Friday, though, with mostly media folks, some I knew vaguely, some a little better. I saw this old friend, who I realized I’ve known since the late 90’s. We don’t know each other that well but I’ve always admired her and thought she was both cool and dead smart. She said some things that buoyed me, and made me realize that even if it’s taking me extra extra long to complete some things and I have so much to do in various areas of my life to make them, at the very least, presentable, I’ve come a long way from the utterly misguided law school student I was back when we first met. So that’s something.

And I hatched a new little (or maybe big) project that’s launching next week. It involves erotica. Read more about it and how you can submit your work here. I'm excited about it.

Last week’s visit ended on an up note, but the middle of it was kindof hellish, for both of us, I think. I had pictured it like being on vacation, and it was distinctly not so. That’s good, I think, for each of us and our relationship, because when it’s all vacationlike, it’s too easy; that’s not real life. The downside is, well, real life is annoying and messy and busy and tiring and not always the most romantic thing in the world. Saturday was very bittersweet, because it was out best day (well, maybe our spa day was a close second) and the day we had to say goodbye, but I think any more time might have not been good for us.

It brought into stark relief the fact that I’ve never lived with anyone other than family and roommates, and I know he lived with someone for four and a half years. I don’t have any grand wisdom from that. There was a point where I was sure we were gonna break up on the spot, and then other moments that were so open and honest, the kinds of moments I wish we had more of. There was sex, too, eventually, and I hate to say that fixed everything that had been wrong before, but it kindof did. I think we’re both kindof loners at heart and pretty stubborn and moody; not all the time, but enough of it, that we have to work to get past that to get to the good parts, where we’re not so self-protective. Sometimes I don’t know if either of us is ready for that closeness, and I think when you’re far away, it’s easy to retreat back into your own head. But the optimistic part of me hopes that we can overcome that. I think it was really healthy for me, if not the most fun thing, to realize that I'll be okay if that optimism is unfounded because what I think I fear the most is clinging to something that's not working just because. Because what, well, there are a million reasons, and it's not so black and white. I guess I'm choosing to focus on the happier moments, not because the bad ones didn't exist, and trust me, they were bad, but also because I think that part of them was a product of our surroundings, not us. Part of it was us, and that's okay too. I know it's unrealistic to think every minute together is gonna be blissful.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

If you are looking for something to read, please do yourself a favor and check out the new memoir Cancer is a Bitch (Or, I'd Rather Be Having a Mid-life Crisis). It's a wonderful, extremely honest account of her bout with breast cancer as well as the ups and downs of her marriage, being a mom, struggling with being a writer and much more. The passage I quote below ("I love him. I hate him...") and other moments where she reflects on the imperfections of her marriage really spoke to me.

As someone with loved ones who have cancer, I found her perspective helpful, too, though obviously each person is different.

In her subtitle, Gail Konop Baker wishes that instead of dealing with breast cancer, she could be battling a mid-life crisis. Well, she manages to tackle both with extreme candor, humor, and an openness that is enough to win over any reader, even if they don't think a cancer book sounds like much fun.

It's not, but that doesn't mean Baker is morose. She worries about her future, and more so, in a way, her family's, continually picturing her husband paired up with her yoga teacher or "Laura New Hampshire," a former neighbor. It's in exploring her almost-20 year marriage and its ups and downs that Baker truly shines, especially as her illness is part of that; her husband is a radiologist, and her fear over his reaction to her having cancer, adds to her overall stress.

She writes: "I love him. I hate him. I want him. I don't. But why doesn't anyone tell you how risky it is to trust another person with the all f you, to imprint your life with their life? How frightening it is to love and let yourself be loved? That to stay with someone you have to get over and get on and be willing to redefine the marriage over and over again. And compromise. Always compromise." These thoughts recur throughout the book, but they are not neurotic worries that can be annoying in memoir or fiction, but rather the very real worries about a life suddenly in chaos.

At one point, Baker notes that all her friends are reading Nora Ephron's I Feel About My Neck, and she wishes she could feel bad about something other than her breasts. When describing the physical changes, she harkens back to her days feeding her children, and later it's her daughters who help her pick out a purple bra.

Baker is not only concerned with her own well-being. In "Cancer Snakes Its Way Through the Neighborhood," one of the most moving chapters, she looks around at her neighbors and what they struggle with. Along the way she separately confronts each of her parents over how they handled their childrearing duties, pushing each relationship forward.

This is a book about cancer, yes, but it's really a book about love and family, ambition and hope. The writing hut Baker's husband built for her is a symbol of who she yearns to be, and even though you are holding the product of her efforts in your hand, already know in advance she has succeeded, you feel for Baker's thwarted writing dreams. This is a gutsy, brave, powerful, funny and tear-inducing memoir. Baker doesn't shrug off her diagnosis, but she learns how to live with the uncertainty of it, and embrace each day, and her family and friends to the fullest. That may sound sappy, and maybe it is, but it's sappy in the best kind of way, because it's real and questioning and raw. Kudos to baker on achieving her dream(s) and giving us a peek into her marriage, her family, and her heart, along with her doctors' offices.

Last night's Erotica 101 workshop was intimate but fascinating and totally got me inspired. I'm teaching another one at TES on Tuesday, with a kinky twist, and will hopefully have info on more soon. Today I'm taping e-classes for DigiRomp on erotica. This is also a reminder that I really, really want your stories for my e-books - I only have a few so far. Deadline is 9/30! After that I think I may pitch some more ideas inspired by the workshop.

September 23, 8 pmErotica 101 Workshop for TES

Erotica 101 with a kinky twist; this workshop will focus on kinkyerotica, including in-class writing exercises and an overview of the erotica market.

I'm editing 2 new e-book anthologies for Ravenous Romance, to be published in December 2008.

For both: 1,500-3,000 words, Times or Times New Roman, double space, indent 1/2 an inch at start of each paragraph. Unpublished work only. All characters must be over 18; no incest or bestiality. All sexual orientations/genders welcome. Send as Word Document; if you cannot send as Word Document, send as RTF or in the body of an email.

LUST CHRONICLES: Erotic memoir, aka true sex stories. It has to be true and about you and involve sex. Can be funny, adventurous, sexy, dark, etc. Does not have to be "erotic" per se. Looking for a wide range of scenarios, everything from group sex to BDSM to best times, craziest times, first times, etc.

SEX AND MUSIC: Erotica about sex and music, could be band/groupie, music teacher, masturbating to a hot song, making a music video, musical performance, etc. Again, looking for a wide range of scenarios.

Send BIO and MAILING ADDRESS (either in the Word Doc or in body of your email) and WORD DOCUMENT with your submission to: rachelravenous@gmail.com (if you previously sent a story to another address, I have it) with "Lust Chronicles" or "Sex and Music" in subject line

DEADLINE: September 30, 2008 (but I will be accepting stories on a rolling basis, so the sooner you get them in, the better)

PAYMENT (Updated): Authors will receive $1/page PLUS portion of the E-book and MP3 royalties. We are purchasing electronic rights for 3 years and audio rights.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Professional erotica author and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel will take you through the ins and outs of modern erotic writing, from getting started, finding your voice, writing against type, erotic love and lust letters, to submitting your work keeping up with the thriving erotica market. You'll learn how to incorporate everyday scenarios as well as outlandish fantasies into your writing, and make them fit for particular magazines and anthologies. Whether you're writing to that special someone, penning longtime fantasies, or want to earn cash for your dirty words, this workshop, taught by the editor of over 20 erotic anthologies, is for you. A handout of steamy and instructional erotic readings is included. Paper and writing implements will be provided.

Friday, September 19, 2008

I noticed in Dirty Words that there were entries for "Dirty Sanchez" and "Dirty Talk" but not "Dirty" itself. So I wrote something, very on the fly, two hours beforehand. "Did you really write it two hours before?" my friend Flora asked me. "You always say that." But I really did. I was in a kindof dark headspace and writing about it helped, and I'm glad I did. I forget sometimes to journal, to write, to capture things as they occur, before they utterly change on me.

And I got utterly seduced by the second person. I've used it so sparingly in the past, and think that's its proper place. I never really studied much in the way of proper English, but I realized that I write in second person when I want to write something very personal, but also distance myself from it. It's not "I," not "me," but "you" even though "you" is really me. I think why it works is because by saying "You," even though the listener/reader knows the writer is often using "you" as a substitute for "I," it draws them in. It could be talking about any "you" out there in that crowd.

It's seductive, an instant come-on, whereas "I," which I use so much, by comparison sounds haughty, audacious, bragging. "I" can only be about the author, whereas "you" takes on a universality that is broad enough to invite everyone in. In so many ways, it's more confessional. I'm fascinated by it. The other piece I wrote was called "Memories" and it was one of two breakup erotica stories I wrote back in 2004 that I'm glad I did, but still killed me to write.

I felt stronger after I wrote this, and I actually walked into Happy Ending with one idea of how my night would go, and the night, and the people in it, surprised me, in a very good way. I don't know if that has anything to do with the writing, but I'm glad I got the words out. I think I sounded more confident than I usually do when reading and I credit the second person for it. And because this is the internet, you even get links. Read at In The Flesh Reading Series, September 18, 2008.

"Dirty"by Rachel Kramer Bussel

You look up a piece you wrote in 2003 about being “dirty,” one that now makes you cringe the same way those artifacts of childhood creativity your mom has saved does. It feels juvenile, the words a weak version of who you are or maybe who you were. But still, they are there, on the Internet, forever, and they say things like:

I want to be nervous, a little bit scared, uncertain. I want my clit and my pussy to be scared too, to try and anticipate what will happen next and be thrown off guard by a slap or a pinch or a pull. I want the pain of a hand falling full force against my ass, making it burn and seethe, and knowing that there's more waiting for me. I need that fear, that edge, to hover over. I need my lover to act differently with me than they do on the street, to treat me rougher or meaner or more fiercely, anything that distinguishes our sex from our average conversation.

You’ve almost forgotten what the good kind of Dirty is like, the kind where you do the walk of shame, or the subway ride of shame, and shop at Kmart before work. The kind where you push everything else in your head aside to whisper fantasies into your cell phone, letting the heat wash over you. The kind where sex becomes central, a daily part of your being, like breathing, not a burden or a worry or a stress, not just a word in your book title or MySpace slogan devoid of meaning. That part makes you feel the wrong kind of Dirty, the slimy kind where you almost can’t look at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you’re living the wrong life instead of being shacked up somewhere with babies and calm.

You forget what Dirty really feels like, or you remember in stolen moments, flirtations and forbidden fantasies. You debate wearing a dress, or lingerie, or nothing at all for a calendar, wonder if you’ll feel about posing nude as you do about HBO showing you masturbating forever, an endless reminder of memory of wantonness. Part of you wants to be captured like that, and part of you wants to hide, save it for someone special. As much as you know that “dirty” is always subjective, that sex and judgment and what’s proper and what’s not are all in the eyes of the beholder, the words that flow from your fingers you’re pretty sure are universally “dirty.” Your work starts to take a dark turn, full of rape fantasies and bukkake and dual blowjobs and crying during spankings. They say things like:

I pin her arms down and can feel her thrashing beneath me. “Don’t,” she says, letting out a whimper as she tries to undo my hold on her. I go slower even though I want to shove my way into her cunt, hurt her with my cock. I go slow so we can both savor the feel of me taking this from her. “No,” she says again, this time more quietly, and I chance lifting one hand to hold it over her mouth. I had no idea how hot that could be, to have a girl who’s struggling with her desire, who’s wet as can be but is trying to protest. It may be an illusion but it’s one I’m buying.

You wonder if you haven’t chosen the wrong profession, wonder if sex is not the topic you should cover by day, then obsess over at night. You get confused when people want your opinion about it, yet you are drawn to it over and over. The gap between that person, that persona, or some mix of the two, the girl from 2003 with all those yearnings, and the girl in 2008 whose yearnings are of a far more maternal nature, grows bigger.

Yet the words keep coming, even as Dirty itself becomes mundane. You have a dream/fantasy, or fantasy/dream, you’re not really sure which. There’s a girl—you don’t know exactly what she looks like, but she’s pretty, and her very presence turns you on. She’s kissing your lover, right there in front of you, soft, and then less soft. You’re part of it but you’re not, there to look and observe and maybe dictate, but not to join. You don’t tell anyone, until now, even though you think about writing him a letter on the pale green lined notepad you bought, the one that came from Staples in a pack with pink and blue, the one you thought would make you organized. You see the letter in your head, your handwriting, but that’s where it remains, because you can’t see afterwards. You don’t know what would happen after it would be received, don’t know how it would be taken, don’t know if it would brand you the wrong kind of dirty, the kind that makes you more of a freaky than fuckable.

Suddenly you start to rethink everything you thought you knew about being dirty. Is wanting sex dirty? Is desiring other people dirty? You don’t think using your vibrator is dirty, but still, you don’t do that as often as you used to. Even lying next to each other, you start to feel something well up from inside, and you’re torn between pushing it back and letting it take over. The words, much simpler ones than those you type into a screen, sit there, moved from your core up through your lungs, then your throat, until they are on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t. Or you can’t. You curl up under the covers and think about it, and try not to cry, try not to want.

You feel like you don’t know very much at all, but you do know this: That Dirty should not feel like this, sinful, scary, silent. Dirty should not be a code word for wanting but not having, for craving that never seems to end. Dirty, the good kind, should make you love your body more, love that it comes first, not last. You hope there is a time when Dirty will come back to you, mellow out, make its peace. Until then, it’s a word, a feeling, lurking around your edges, more work than play.

Time and again, women are put in the position of ‘object of desire’ rather than ‘subject actively desiring’. And the object of our desire – a man – is missing from the picture entirely. For a woman to say she wants a sexy man is not, as is sometimes thought, a weakness, a chink in the armour of female liberation. Expressing your lust, claiming your right to sexual satisfaction, being a person who is actively desiring is poles apart from the caricature of a needy, dependent woman who yearns for a man because without him she is a moony, ditzy sap foundering in her own inadequacy.In rejecting this caricature, let’s not chuck out the baby with the bath water (or the penis with the patriarchy). Let’s not be afraid to say, as women, ‘I want a hot guy.’ We can retain our autonomy and do this without adding the usual fucked-up twist – I want a hot guy to want me, to find me attractive, to look at me with lust as I lie on this couch in a sultry mish-mash of availability and aloofness.

from the Lust Bites post:Sure, if you’re a bi woman, you might like the picture too but presumably you’d be equally happy with a gorgeous guy. And it’s odd, isn’t it – suspicious even – that on erotica covers, the only aspects of female bisexuality represented are the ones that heterosexual men get off on quite majorly? How jolly convenient! Because the fact is the preponderance of the female form in erotica isn’t an act of generosity towards women who like women, anymore than the plethora of hot-honeys-go-pussy-crazy porn is about lesbian consumer choice. It’s just a side effect of what straight men like.

In the Flesh is a monthly reading series hosted at the appropriately named Happy Ending Lounge, and features the city's best erotic writers sharing stories to get you hot and bothered, hosted and curated by acclaimed erotic writer and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel. From erotic poetry to down and dirty smut, these authors get naked on the page and will make you lust after them and their words. Since its debut in October 2005, In the Flesh has featured such authors as Laura Antoniou, Mo Beasley, Lily Burana, Jessica Cutler, Stephen Elliott, Valerie Frankel, Polly Frost, Gael Greene, Andy Horwitz, Debra Hyde, Maxim Jakubowski, Emily Scarlet Kramer of CAKE, Josh Kilmer-Purcell, Edith Layton, Logan Levkoff, Suzanne Portnoy, Sofia Quintero, M.J. Rose, Lauren Sanders, Danyel Smith, Grant Stoddard, Cecilia Tan, Carol Taylor, Dana Vachon, Veronica Vera, Susan Wright, Zane and many others. The series has gotten press attention from the New York Times’s UrbanEye, Escape (Hong Kong), Flavorpill,The L Magazine, New York Magazine, Philadelphia City Paper, Time Out New York, Gothamist, Nerve.com and Wonkette, and has been praised by Dr. Ruth. This is not Amanda Stern’s Happy Ending Reading Series.

Abiola Abrams is the host of BET’s The Best Short Films. A writer and filmmaker who gives motivational talks, her empowerment movement and interactive site are called the Goddess Factory. Abiola’s debut novel, Dare, a chick-lit Faust, was published by Simon & Schuster. She has a B.F.A. from Sarah Lawrence College and an M.F.A. from Vermont College of the Arts.www.abiolaabrams.com

Rachel Kramer Bussel’s most recent edited anthologies include Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica, Tasting Him, Tasting Her, Dirty Girls, Yes, Sir, Yes, Ma’am and Best Sex Writing 2008. She is Senior Editor at Penthouse Variations and wrote the popular Lusty Lady column for The Village Voice. Rachel has also written for AVN, Bust, Cosmopolitan, Gothamist, Mediabistro, Metro, New York Post, Punk Planet, San Francisco Chronicle, Time Out New York, Velvetpark and Zink. She also co-edits the cupcake blog Cupcakes Take the Cake.www.rachelkramerbussel.com

Rand Richards Cooper is the author of a novel, The Last to Go, and a story collection, Big as Life. His fiction has appeared in Harper's, the Atlantic, and Esquire. A longtime writer for Bon Appétit, Rand lives in Hartford, Connecticut, with his wife, Molly, and daughter, Larkin and writes a column about fatherhood, Dad on a Lark, for Wondertime.com.

Lisa Selin Davis is the author of the novel Belly and a freelance writer covering all things urban planning. She has written for the New York Times, Salon, House & Garden, and a zillion other publications and has written one other sex essay, about a pornography club, for Nerve. www.lisaselindavis.com

Stacey D'Erasmo is the author of the novels Tea (2000), A Seahorse Year (2004), and the forthcoming The Sky Below (2009). She is an assistant professor of writing at Columbia University.

Michael Hickins is the author of a sexy collection of stories, The Actual Adventures of Michael Missing (Alfred A. Knopf, 1991; iUniverse, 2000). His most recent work includes Blomqvist (iUniverse, 2006), a picaresque novel about faithlessness set in eleventh-century Europe, and The What Do You Know Contest. He lives in New York City.

Victoria Redel is the author of two books of poetry and three books of fiction: The Border of Truth as published in 2008. Loverboy was chosen in 2001 as a Los Angeles Times Best Book and adapted for feature film. Swoon was a finalist for the James Laughlin award. www.victoriaredel.com

Ellen Sussman is the editor of Dirty Words: A Literary Encyclopedia of Sex. Her anthology, Bad Girls: 26 Writers Misbehave, became a New York Times Editors’ Choice and a San Francisco Chronicle best seller. She is the author of the novel On a Night Like This, also a San Francisco Chronicle best seller.www.ellensussman.com

Our next meetup, we are inviting cupcake bakers to bring cupcakes for us to sample. We are also welcoming some of our tech friends who will be in town for Web 2.0 Expo.

I am bringing some cupcakes and a couple of Travel Boggle games, but if we run out of cupcakes, please feel free to walk over to Babycakes, How Sweet It Is or Sugar Sweet Sunshine since they are in the Lower East Side neighborhood.

The Delancey has a retractable roof, so we don't have to worry it is rains. Cash Bar. Happy Hour specials!

The awesome Sara Benincasa (co-host of Cosmo Radio's Get in Bed show, which I was on last night) as Sarah Palin, the first of many vlogs, which were recently featured in Newsweek. Also check out her blog and her comedy show Family Hour with Auntie Sara. I did it and have been in the audience; it's a one-of-a-kind comedy show because it's not just comedy, it's for all kinds of family stories.

Sex toy store Babeland is celebrating their 15th anniversary (in Seattle on Monday they'll have Dan Savage at their event, plus cupcakes from Trophy Cupcakes!) and I've written this little tribute, which will be cross-posted on the Babeland blog.

I didn't buy my first vibrator from Babeland, because I don't think ithad opened in New York at that time, but I have bought my favorite andmost beloved ones there. I distinctly remember when the Babeland onRivington Street opened. I was just starting to explore my and NewYork's sexuality, going to play parties, coming out as bisexual,discovering that I liked things like spanking. I would go to Babelandand look hungrily at all the shiny, pretty, sometimes intimidating andexciting objects all around. Little did I know I would go on to doreadings and an erotic love letter workshop there.

The vibrator that really changed my life was a little pink clitoralone, it may have been called the Honeybear, but I'm not sure. Thatvibrator helped show me how to have an orgasm and what my clit was for(yes, I was in my early twenties, in law school - I was a latebloomer). I remember how excited I was, just to own it; to walk out ofthe shop and have this special treasure tucked into my bag. And then Igot home and used it and wow! I went on to wear that one out, beforereplacing it and then upgrading to the vibrator that is still mymainstay, the Hitachi Magic Wand, which I now can't imagine everliving without.

But what sticks out for me from those early days of Babeland shoppingto walking into the store today is the friendliness of the staff andthe environment. You know the people working there actually care aboutsex and making it better, for everyone who walks in their door,whether that's with a bottle of lube, a harness, nipple clamps, or avibrator (or two). Babeland is the kind of place anyone can walk inand banish all those shameful, scary feelings about sex I think eventhe most enlightened among us sometimes walk around with. It's a storeI've taken many friends to buy their first (or second, third, etc.)vibrators, and where I go when I want to find new toys or just browseand get ideas for erotica stories.

I can't imagine what New York would be like without Babeland as aresource. I remember trying to buy porn at one of those shops on 6thAvenue near West 4th Street, and being the only woman there, beingnervous and feeling out of place. That doesn't happen at Babeland.Their bright, cheerful, colorful atmosphere comes armed with a staffwho can actually tell you about which vibrator would work best foryour specific needs, taking into consideration numerous factors. Thetoys I've bought from Babeland, from paddles to vibrators to buttplugs, rope, a gorgeous purple flogger, and more, are ones I treasureand have put to good use.

Congratulations on your first 15 successful years; I can't wait to seewhat Babeland cooks up in the next 15.

In the Flesh is a monthly reading series hosted at the appropriately named Happy Ending Lounge, and features the city's best erotic writers sharing stories to get you hot and bothered, hosted and curated by acclaimed erotic writer and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel. From erotic poetry to down and dirty smut, these authors get naked on the page and will make you lust after them and their words. Since its debut in October 2005, In the Flesh has featured such authors as Laura Antoniou, Mo Beasley, Lily Burana, Jessica Cutler, Stephen Elliott, Valerie Frankel, Polly Frost, Gael Greene, Andy Horwitz, Debra Hyde, Maxim Jakubowski, Emily Scarlet Kramer of CAKE, Josh Kilmer-Purcell, Edith Layton, Logan Levkoff, Suzanne Portnoy, Sofia Quintero, M.J. Rose, Lauren Sanders, Danyel Smith, Grant Stoddard, Cecilia Tan, Carol Taylor, Dana Vachon, Veronica Vera, Susan Wright, Zane and many others. The series has gotten press attention from the New York Times’s UrbanEye, Escape (Hong Kong), Flavorpill,The L Magazine, New York Magazine, Philadelphia City Paper, Time Out New York, Gothamist, Nerve.com and Wonkette, and has been praised by Dr. Ruth. This is not Amanda Stern’s Happy Ending Reading Series.

Abiola Abrams is the host of BET’s The Best Short Films. A writer and filmmaker who gives motivational talks, her empowerment movement and interactive site are called the Goddess Factory. Abiola’s debut novel, Dare, a chick-lit Faust, was published by Simon & Schuster. She has a B.F.A. from Sarah Lawrence College and an M.F.A. from Vermont College of the Arts.www.abiolaabrams.com

Rachel Kramer Bussel’s most recent edited anthologies include Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica, Tasting Him, Tasting Her, Dirty Girls, Yes, Sir, Yes, Ma’am and Best Sex Writing 2008. She is Senior Editor at Penthouse Variations and wrote the popular Lusty Lady column for The Village Voice. Rachel has also written for AVN, Bust, Cosmopolitan, Gothamist, Mediabistro, Metro, New York Post, Punk Planet, San Francisco Chronicle, Time Out New York, Velvetpark and Zink. She also co-edits the cupcake blog Cupcakes Take the Cake.www.rachelkramerbussel.com

Rand Richards Cooper is the author of a novel, The Last to Go, and a story collection, Big as Life. His fiction has appeared in Harper's, the Atlantic, and Esquire. A longtime writer for Bon Appétit, Rand lives in Hartford, Connecticut, with his wife, Molly, and daughter, Larkin and writes a column about fatherhood, Dad on a Lark, for Wondertime.com.

Lisa Selin Davis is the author of the novel Belly and a freelance writer covering all things urban planning. She has written for the New York Times, Salon, House & Garden, and a zillion other publications and has written one other sex essay, about a pornography club, for Nerve. www.lisaselindavis.com

Stacey D'Erasmo is the author of the novels Tea (2000), A Seahorse Year (2004), and the forthcoming The Sky Below (2009). She is an assistant professor of writing at Columbia University.

Michael Hickins is the author of a sexy collection of stories, The Actual Adventures of Michael Missing (Alfred A. Knopf, 1991; iUniverse, 2000). His most recent work includes Blomqvist (iUniverse, 2006), a picaresque novel about faithlessness set in eleventh-century Europe, and The What Do You Know Contest. He lives in New York City.

Victoria Redel is the author of two books of poetry and three books of fiction: The Border of Truth as published in 2008. Loverboy was chosen in 2001 as a Los Angeles Times Best Book and adapted for feature film. Swoon was a finalist for the James Laughlin award. www.victoriaredel.com

Ellen Sussman is the editor of Dirty Words: A Literary Encyclopedia of Sex. Her anthology, Bad Girls: 26 Writers Misbehave, became a New York Times Editors’ Choice and a San Francisco Chronicle best seller. She is the author of the novel On a Night Like This, also a San Francisco Chronicle best seller.www.ellensussman.com

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

E-books are new to me, as a reader and an editor. Ravenous Romance is launching in December and these will be part of the launch, and I'm definitely in need of stories and favoring new writers, so please send your stories in!

I'm editing 2 new e-book anthologies for Ravenous Romance, to be published in December 2008.

For both: 1,500-3,000 words, Times or Times New Roman, double space, indent 1/2 an inch at start of each paragraph. Unpublished work only. All characters must be over 18; no incest or bestiality. All sexual orientations/genders welcome. Send as Word Document; if you cannot send as Word Document, send as RTF or in the body of an email.

LUST CHRONICLES: Erotic memoir, aka true sex stories. It has to be true and about you and involve sex. Can be funny, adventurous, sexy, dark, etc. Does not have to be "erotic" per se. Looking for a wide range of scenarios, everything from group sex to BDSM to best times, craziest times, first times, etc.

SEX AND MUSIC: Erotica about sex and music, could be band/groupie, music teacher, masturbating to a hot song, making a music video, musical performance, etc. Again, looking for a wide range of scenarios.

Send BIO and MAILING ADDRESS (either in the Word Doc or in body of your email) and WORD DOCUMENT with your submission to: rachelravenous@gmail.com (if you previously sent a story to another address, I have it) with "Lust Chronicles" or "Sex and Music" in subject line

DEADLINE: September 30, 2008 (but I will be accepting stories on a rolling basis, so the sooner you get them in, the better)

PAYMENT (Updated): Authors will receive $1/page PLUS portion of the E-book and MP3 royalties. We are purchasing electronic rights for 3 years and audio rights.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

First up is Nichelle Stephens’s talk “Cupcakes: The iPhone of Desserts” at Ignite NYC, where Allison Bojarski and I are going to be guest judges of the cupcake decorating contest (see Bre Pettis cupcake interview here). At New World Stages, 340 West 50th Street, NYC. Cupcake decorating contest runs from 7:30-8:15; presentations start at 8:30.

Then on Wednesday, come play my favorite game, Boggle, with us and munch on yummy cupcakes. At The Delancey Rooftop Bar, 168 Delancey Street, NYC, 6:30 pm. Join/RSVP to the Cupcakes Take the Cake NYC Meetup. See you there!

And if you haven’t had enough, come out for more cupcakes (and chocolate and salty snacks too!) and some amazing readers on Thursday from 8-10 for In The Flesh Reading Series at Happy Ending Lounge, 302 Broome St., NYC.

Friday, September 05, 2008

Becky Yamamoto has always loved the musical Oklahoma!She has never met her biological father.She has never figured out why both of these things are true.Tonight, she settles it once and for all. With special guests.

Of course, I know for some parents the issue is decorum. I overheard one mom telling her three-year-old that she needed to wear a bathing suit “because of modesty.” And I do respect that in many cultures, nudity is just not seen as acceptable at any age. This thing is: in mine, it is.

It’s not that I’m a radical when it comes to parenting. Clem’s been vaccinated, nursed for only six months and drinks from sippy cups that I am sure leach BPA. But I am all for allowing her to drop her drawers whenever she likes.

I have this idea that the more I let her be naked now, the more accepting of her body she will be later. I don’t know that any studies would back me up. At this point, it’s just a hunch. And it’s a hope, grown out of a decade spent working with teenage girls who hate their bodies, that somehow my kid will be an exception.

But I’m not about to get into this when I am told by a stranger to dress her.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

The virtual book tour for Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica has come to an end. Below you can check out all 34 posts - see Nobilis Erotica for a podcast in which my story "The Depths of Despair" is read, and the last stop, DigiRomp, for an interview with me on a scooter. But really, check them all out! You can purchase your own copy on Amazon or Bn.com or Powells (or your local bookseller). Thank you to all the bloggers who participated!

One of the Greatest Generation writes affectingly of a long life spent wrestling with post-traumatic stress disorder.

Prisoners of war, Bussel notes, suffer disproportionately from heart attacks in old age, as well as various autoimmune illnesses—all maladies attributable in some measure to stress and anger. Shot down over Germany in 1944, Bussel, then 19, was shipped off to a POW camp on the shore of the Baltic Sea and was subjected to the usual indignities. His Nazi captors never discovered that he was Jewish, though, and he had something of a protector in a fatherly German guard who “made some everlasting changes in the way I look at the world.” The early pages of this memoir echo the work of Neil Simon, if with a slightly more exacting view of military medical inspections. Bussel writes with good humor about life in boot camp and specialist training, of minor insurrections and tensions among the enlisted and of his coming of age courtesy of a Florida ballerina turned stripper. (He ruefully reflects that he had forgotten to take along the lucky bra she had given him on the day his bomber was brought down.) Bussel told his family that he would return if the military sent them a notice that he was missing in action, and he lived up to his word. Yet he returned changed—and to a nation that was ever so slightly afraid of him. (He was turned down for a job for which he was perfectly suited because, the interviewer said, “my boss reads that you were a POW, he’s going to think I hired a loony.”) Bussel writes clearly and authentically about the various manifestations of what used to be called shell shock: anger, irritability, confusion, claustrophobia and years of attempts at self-medication before finding support and sobriety.

An honest account of matters once considered embarrassing—and much more common than civilians might realize, as a new generation of veterans is discovering.